Winter
by ABeautifulBrokenMess
Summary: Her heart was protected by icicles, and her soul was buried in snow. She was winter embodied, and she wanted vengeance. Apart of the "Mystical" story arc.
1. Winter

She was captured at the age of nine-no, not captured. Inducted. They adopted her almost immediately, not questioning why she refused to talk. They saw the blaze in her eyes, the saw the burn of vengeance in her heart. They saw it, and they ran with it.

They soon realized that her refusal to talk would be a problem. A very, very big problem. They trained her, she was a model student in both physical and academic areas. But following, on the other hand, was something she refused to do. She never ducked her head down like she was supposed to, she always seemed to have her arms crossed.

One of her officers, angered by this rebellious attitude, beat her arms to the point that her right one was useless. She could no longer feel it, the area below her shoulder was useless and barren.

A week later, she showed up to assembly with a new arm, fully functional, and made of metal.

The next morning, that same officer was found in his bed, whip lashes with burns surrounding them all over his body. He was pronounced dead.

She was promoted.

She was given a new name, Lady Solstice.

At that moment, she lost all feeling in her heart, and an ice surrounded her soul, cold and gripping.

Fitting, isn't it?


	2. Blizzard

She felt anger.

It was odd, it was the first thing she had felt in days. Weeks, even.

It felt good. After being empty for so long, anything, even the most volatile emotion, anger, was better than the all encompassing void that seemed to be her heart.

* * *

He went to sleep fairly early, for an officer. Instead of staying up late and drinking away their sorrows, _fools_, he slept them away._  
_

She took advantage of this.

* * *

For an officer, he wasn't very smart. He left his window open.

He should know that she of all people would take this opportunity to not leave a trace.

* * *

Because of him, she only needed one glove. Why would she put a glove on a metal hand?

She shoved the spare glove down his throat. Silence.

* * *

He looked at her, terrified.

Good.

* * *

She made an attachment, on her hand. A whip.

It was charged by her blood.

* * *

The next day, when they asked her what happened, she smirked, and spoke for the first time.

"I got pissed."

* * *

They wanted to break her, and they had. But at what cost?


	3. Hail Storm

Her first mission was simple:storm the ballroom leading all of them behind her, and give them a show of strength. Hydra did this to it's donors that suddenly had a change of heart, showing them that backing was not an option.

Kill everyone except for him, a simple mission.

One she delighted in.

* * *

Her anger had simmered down to a slow boil, not as all encompassing as it was. But that left space for another emotion.

Rage.

* * *

It was February 4th, in Northern Russia.

It was cold.

But she was born of the cold, her soul forged in the icy depths of freezing water.

She was in her element.

* * *

They broke the doors with a clatter and she let her whip come out of her hand. Power surged through her body and she felt herself smile.

It felt good to be in charge.

* * *

She could hear bullet casings hit the floor at a rapid pace, screams of all pitches tones ringing through the ball room.

Isn't it grand?

* * *

She found him, huddled in the corner, tears streaming down his face. For a Duke, he was weak.

She raised her whip, and he screamed.

* * *

They said she wasn't supposed to kill him.

There was a lot of blood, but she followed the rules.

* * *

She always followed the rules.

No exceptions.


	4. Snow Flake

She only broke the rules once, and it wasn't for herself.

* * *

She could see him sometimes, sitting on the rooftops at night, breathing in cold winter air.

He had a picture, and he would stare at it for hours on end, grasping at his hair when he couldn't remember.

She knew the feeling.

* * *

_Curly hair._

* * *

A blond man.

Strapping, strong.

Happy.

Best friends.

In love.

* * *

_Monster bride._

* * *

She and him bonded together over the mutual fury they had for their situations.

They both knew they could have better.

They just didn't know what better was.

* * *

_Frankenstein._

* * *

One night she shouldn't sleep.

It wasn't strange, actually. She could go weeks without sleep.

But this night she just couldn't.

She made a decision, and slipped out of bed.

* * *

_There was a scar on her ankle. Why was there a scar on her ankle?_

* * *

Empty hallways, good. No one would have to die tonight.

* * *

_She hated alcohol. God, she hated alcohol. Why did she hate alcohol?_

* * *

She opened the door to the lab, where he went in every week to get readmitted.

She smirked, she could hack this system with her eyes closed.

* * *

_The color purple was such a pretty color to her. Why?_

* * *

She made a back door, a glitch in the system. If someone activated it, it would completely shut the system down in his brain.

He would be free.

* * *

She had only broken the rules that one time.


	5. Ice Shard

It was starting to wear off.

* * *

She could feel it.

It was odd, seeing flashes of swirls and lavender and curly hair and-

_Cheek kisses._

* * *

She had a mission, normal.

She was to kill a child, something she had done countless times before.

This time she asked why.

* * *

She sat there, nursing the bruise on her cheek on the flight.

_Why_?

She never got her question answered.

* * *

The little girl was sleeping, a bear in her arms. She had red hair and green eyes, according to her file.

She froze-

_I have red hair_.

She didn't know why, but she knew that it was wrong.

* * *

She slaughtered a deer and spilled it's blood all over the room, and took the girl to an orphanage far, far away.

* * *

Hydra never did follow-ups.

Good.

* * *

She stared at the mirror, a piece of lavender she found outside her window taped to it.

It was a comfort, as she washed off the blood.

* * *

In the next supply check, she requested lavender soap.

They didn't question it, thinking it would help her.

* * *

It was wearing off faster now.

* * *

She got a purple sharpie and drew swirls on her arm.

_They'll never be as pretty as hers._

* * *

Who the hell was Her?

* * *

She didn't know, but she knew that her swirls would never be as pretty the ones lost behind the snow in her mind.


End file.
